Harry Potter and the Notebook of the Worlds
by Idunno Wochermene
Summary: A prequel to the story of Harry Potter, not strictly adhering to the voice, plot and theme of the actual series.


Prologue 

Harry sat in the car, a bit jittery after the conclusion of his fourth year in Hogwarts.  The car pulled into the driveway of the Dursley residence, and he was greeted by his cousin Dudley, who was on holiday from Smeltings, his school.

"You got a package, Harry.  From your _girlfriend_," taunted Dudley.

_Package?_ _Girfriend?_  Harry wondered what his cousin was on to.

"A shelf fell down in the neighbors' basement.  And they found it in the crawlspace."

Harry dashed into the house and up the stairs.  On his bed, there was a faded, cardboard moving box, reading ITop Secret/I.  His hands shook as he peeled back the flaps, and he pulled out a yellowed spiral notebook.  Under a green torch and a bag of crackers, now in crumbs, Harry unearthed a burgundy T-Shirt reading "Harvard" in peeling white letters with a crest below, and the shirt's twin below it, in gray.   He felt a lump in his throat as memories came flooding back, memories that he had been trying to forget for the last five years, memories of a summer that lasted a million years.  Holding the gray shirt to his face, he knelt and paused in reflection.

  
Chapter One: The New Neighbors                                                                                                                             

_BLAM!  BLAM!_  "Wake up, sleepyhead!  Mum says you have to get up!"

Harry awoke to the sound of his cousin, Dudley, banging on the door of his cupboard—apparently with his new scooter.  Dudley's birthday had been last week and he had been bragging about how he was nine and Harry was still eight.

Harry rolled off the bed, groaning, and flicked a spider off the bedclothes.  Yawning, he pushed on his glasses, pulled a T-shirt and jeans out from under the bed and donned them.  He had to roll the sleeves up several times before his elbows poked out, and his belt was wound around his waist twice.  He walked out of the cupboard toward the kitchen, stopping by the hall mirror to flatten down his black hair, which was always untidy.  Aunt Petunia greeted him in the kitchen.

"I thought you'd never get out of bed!  Did you expect us to hold breakfast for you all day?  And your hair is a mess, boy!"

Uncle Vernon grunted his agreement and unfolded the newspaper as Harry sat down.

Dudley, from across the table, smirked at him.  He had smooth, blonde hair, which made Aunt Petunia often comment on what an angel her son was.  With Dudley's pink folds of fat, Harry rather though his cousin more resembled a pig in a wig.

"Look at this, Petunia!  _Teenage Gang Breaks into Bank_.  Uncle Vernon's face paled.  "_'Besides the fact that these youngsters were sitting inside_ '", he read, "_'there was no damage or any evidence of a break-in.'_"  His eyes traveled toward Harry, who was quickly eating his bacon in anticipation of a lecture.  "Sounds like..._their _crowd."

"They" were Harry's parents, who had been killed in a tragic car crash.  According to Uncle Vernon, "they" were odd, and hung out with bad lots, white trash, and the like.  Harry still couldn't help feeling a twinge of indignation when his parents were badmouthed by his uncle though.  He finished eating and left the table before he could answer back.  Harry was not in the mood for a fight.

  


Later, Harry sat down between the hedge and the fence in the front yard, trying not to be noticed and singled out for yard work.  After all, the neighbors were far more interesting.  For weeks, he had been watching all different families touring the house next door, and tried to guess who would be the ones to rent the house for the next year.  Today a big semi-tractor trailer was parked in front of the house, and he watched the furniture go into the house.  So far, living room things.  Nothing big.  No, wait a bed!  And a red bicycle.  Definitely a boy next door.  But, oh wait, that was a tricycle.  The boy was too little.  Now another bike.  Harry couldn't see the color.  But the size was promising.  It was green.  Could be either.  Now another bed.  Now a desk.  Now a dresser.  Now a—

"Hey, you know, you could come and say hi like a good neighbor."

Harry started.  Standing on the other side of the fence was a girl, in overalls and a T-shirt, her brown hair in braids and covered by a backward baseball cap.  Her feet were bare, and muddy.  "Uh, hi.  I'm…er…Harry."

The girl grinned, like he had just told a very funny joke instead of stuttering out his name.  "Nice to meet you, Harry.  My name's Irene.  I turned nine in April."

Great.  Everyone was older than him.   "Well, I'm going to be nine in July.  And…" Something was funny about the way she spoke.  And he manner was unusually bold.  "I'm sorry, but do you have an accent?"  He hoped he hadn't sounded too rude.

Irene burst into laughter.  "Are you joking?  _You're_ the one with the accent.  In fact, everyone here sounds so…_British_."

"You're not British?  Where are you from?"  There he was, asking too many questions again.  She was sure to hate him.

"Nope.  I'm American."  Irene didn't sound bothered at all.  "Wanna come over?"

He found he rather liked her boldness.   "Well, I don't know if I can.  Aunt Petunia might not let me."  Then a thought struck him.  "But if I go, then she can't make me do housework."

"Then it's settled.  Come on over.  I can always say I dragged you over."

Harry followed her as she broke into a run, thinking he was about to have one of the best summers yet.

  


Irene toured through the house, showing Harry all the rooms and where everything was going to go.

"This is the dining room….this is the kitchen…..this is the den…oh, and this is my brother.    He's two, but he's really smart.  Say hi, Ernie.  This is Harry"

p

A small boy looked up shyly, clutching a worn brown alien toy.  He had the same dark eyes as his sister.  "Hi, Harry."

Harry knelt down next to him.  "Who's that you have?"

Ernie moved the toy's head up and down and said croakily, "I'm E.T.  E.T. phone home."  He giggled.

Perplexed, Harry muttered to Irene, "What's so funny?"

"It's what E.T. says in the movie _E.T._", she hissed back.

"_E.T_?"

"The Extra-Terrestrial.  Never mind.  Anyways…." She raced up the stairs, and Harry ran after her, panting.  This girl was wearing him out.

Irene led the way to her room, and she consulted him on where to put the furniture.  They had fun ordering the movers around until they were content.  Harry collapsed into a chair while Irene made the bed.

"So, what's it like in America?"

"Different.  Warmer.  And there are more different kinds of people.  And the money is easier to figure out."

"Different kinds of people?  How?"

"More people from different countries, like China and Italy and Germany and Ireland and Africa and the Middle East…And the money, like I said, is easier.  Everything is base ten."  Harry was entertained for a minute lesson on American currency.  He was surprised at how easy it was to remember.  They discussed school—"I abhor arithmetic", vowed Irene—teachers, and hobbies.  Later, the talk turned to families.

"I have Ernie, and some other brothers and a sister.  There's Stella, she's twenty-five and just out of college, and then there's Mickey, he's nineteen, he sent me this hat from Harvard, look….and then there's Dover, but we all call him Dove, and he's sixteen."

"I have a cousin, Dudley."  Harry told her about the constant bullying and the teasing.

"I'll tell Mickey.  Then he can beat Dudley up when he comes here for break."  Irene tore open a large moving box and began unloading the contents onto the rug.  "Hey, look, here's a picture of my brothers."  She held up a framed photo of two boys, one taller with a sandy crew cut, one less tall, and lanky, with dark, messy hair.  "And here's Stella."  Harry picked up a portrait of a young woman with frizzed hair and puffy bangs.  _Her smile is just like Irene's_, he thought.

Irene abandoned the box and looked out the right window, facing Harry's house.  "Say, who's that fatso?  He looks like a pig wearing a toupee."

Harry glanced down through the glass.  "Oh."  He turned away.   "That's Dudley."

Harry could hear a muffled call from outside.  "Harry!  _Har-reeee!_ Mum wants you!"

"I, uh, better go.  I'll see you around."

"Sure.  Come over tomorrow, ok?  Eight-thirty okay?"

"See you then."

As Harry walked out the front door, he noticed a new sticker on the mailbox.  _Sterling_, it said.  _Ok, Irene Sterling.  I'll be back._  He trudged homeward, reluctant to leave his very first friend.

  


End of Chapter One


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